He Will Break Her Heart
by Travelingthrough
Summary: Set in S6, sometime after episode 3. A fluffy though downbeat alternate reality to the current season, sort of.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: These characters most certainly don't belong to me, am simply borrowing them for the purposes of this story.

AN: An angst piece set in S6, sometime after episode 3 but no further forward than that really. I've gone back in time, and created an imaginary world to hide from the reality of S6. This was sort of inspired by a picture of Robin Tunney at some awards show, looking very pretty with very nice hair.

I'm Jealous of Him.

Jane lies on his couch and pretends he is not entirely consumed with what is going on around him.

He should be upstairs thinking, he shouldn't be wasting precious minutes lying here and brooding but he finds himself utterly unwilling to move. He wants to be here when Lisbon leaves for the night.

It's Friday night, just after 6pm and unusually Lisbon has plans for the evening. This disturbs him for many reasons, most notably that he doesn't like her going out into the world without him when Red John seems so intent on taunting her. If he were to be completely honest with himself however he would simply admit he doesn't like her going out into the world _without him._

He knows he should be thankful that at least she is maintaining a pitiful semblance of a life whilst they are at their most critical point ever in the Red John investigation, but mostly he wants to lock her in her office so that he can keep her safe.

He doesn't delve too deeply into the other reasons he wants to keep her _safe._ If Lisbon is out in a bar tonight, then it won't be him trying to make her laugh and he won't be the one trying to impress her. Jane doesn't even want to consider the possibility that some random guy could be talking to her in a few hours and making her blush that delicious shade of pink when she is embarrassed by a compliment.

He doesn't want to think about any of this. So while he is pleased that Lisbon will have a few hours this evening to enjoy dinner with old college friends, he still wishes for another life where her Friday nights might be spent in some other way.

That they might be spent with him.

He has his eyes closed, waiting for Lisbon's footsteps as she walks through the Bullpen on her way out. She disappeared to the ladies bathroom about 20 minutes ago so he assumes she is changing for her night out, and he doesn't want to miss a second of looking at her lovely face.

He hears unfamiliar footsteps across the floor, the clatter of stiletto heels against the ground and he slowly opens his eyes to follow the direction of the movement.

When he focuses on Lisbon he has to use all his available resources to disguise his visceral reaction to her appearance.

He swallows thickly as he gazes at her in appreciation and awe. She looks beautiful to him, she always does, but tonight she is wearing her beauty with a confidence she doesn't always display.

She has changed into impossibly tight, expensive looking jeans and Jane wonders how on earth she managed to pour herself into them. He is uniquely thankful she has, because she looks wonderfully feminine in them – perhaps heightened by the heels she is wearing. She has on the same shirt and jacket she has been wearing all day but the addition of a very un-Lisbon like clutch bag and gold belt make her look completely different to the agent he has worked with all day.

It's her face, her beautiful face that he can't stop himself from staring at – she is wearing much more makeup than she usually does, and the light catching on her hair reveals that she has coloured it in some way. He thinks how bewitching she is, and then feels something like sorrow in his gut when he realises he won't be the only man who thinks these admiring thoughts tonight.

"Jane, I'm heading out for the night; you going to be okay? Please go to your motel and try and get some rest, okay?"

He smiles at her, beaming with pride that underneath that makeup his wonderful Lisbon remains.

"I will certainly go to the motel and try and rest, Lisbon. You look lovely by the way; I hope you have a good time with your friends tonight."

She colours in pleasure at his words, and suddenly he wants to escort her from the building and have her on his arm as she goes to catch up with her friends. He wonders what kind of man he might be if he were to let Lisbon into his life in the way he aches to.

She smiles at him one last time, says good night to Cho and Rigsby and then heads out into the night.

He watches the corridor for long minutes after she is gone, hoping against all reason that she will come back to keep him company – perhaps play poker with him in the way they sometimes do when neither of them want to break from each other's company.

"Man the boss looks hot tonight."

Rigsby's admiring statement sounds overly loud in the quiet of the near empty room, and perhaps Jane resents the words for more obviously male reasons.

"The boss _is _hot."

Cho directs these words and his blank stare at Jane, the directness of his words makes something ache again in Jane. He, of course, knows the words to be true and he feels sorrier than he can say that Lisbon has gone out into the night without him beside her.

He stands from his place on the couch and makes his excuses for the day.

He knows he should go to his attic and think, but he can't. He just can't tonight. Thoughts and emotions he usually wars with successfully are too close to the surface tonight for him to lose himself in the intellectual pursuit of Red John.

He gets in his car and drives to a bar; wanting nothing more than the cool burn of expensive whisky on his throat.

He sits himself in the corner of the bar with a good single malt and intends to nurse his drink for an hour and then head to his motel to sleep for a few hours.

As the night progresses and he witnesses the usual Friday night bar chat he can't help wondering what Lisbon is doing. He watches as men approach women, and women approach men – he wonders who is approaching Lisbon. He drinks more when these thoughts refuse to leave his head. He thinks about how her hips looked in those jeans, and about how the deep red of her lipstick highlighted the sensuality of her lips. He swallows more alcohol as he tries to accept that whatever Lisbon is doing now is none of his business.

He swallows more alcohol.

He thinks about the sensuality of her lips and wishes for a different life.

He swallows yet more alcohol.

He knows he's drunk too much to even think about driving anywhere so he heads off into the night when the bar becomes too busy and too much of a remembrance of what might be going on across town.

Jane finds himself heading in the direction of Lisbon's apartment and doesn't think about what that might _mean. _He tells himself he wants to ask her about the Carson case, about her taking care of her own safety, and of why she would leave him alone and go spend time with other people.

He knows he really needs a cup of tea, perhaps even a _pot_ of tea, before he should talk to Lisbon.

Infact a very small part of him recognises that he shouldn't be slouched on the floor in front of her condo; he should be letting her alone to try and build a little bit of life for herself.

He buries his head in the collar of his jacket and thinks about what he could tell Lisbon that won't have her punching him when she finds him like this. And actually he doesn't want her to try and coddle him either tonight, just this once he wants to have an honest moment with her.

This is clearly why he has been so dependent on alcohol for his bravado.

It's colder than he anticipated, and after half an hour the nobleness of waiting for Lisbon on her doorstep has lost some of its lustre. He thinks of calling a cab but then focuses on how very much her wants to see Lisbon in the jeans before he goes back to his motel. He has started to count down his remaining days of freedom – or life – and he finds that he aches to spend the majority of that time with Teresa Lisbon. He accepts the unfairness of this desire, he knows he can only hurt her and yet he wants… He just wants. It's been so long since he has given into any sort of longing, he acknowledges this it's fitting he should be sitting like this fretting over Lisbon.

He has no real plan of what to do when she arrives; he thinks he might literally weep if she were to bring _company_ back with her. These thoughts, even in the abstract make him nauseous in ways that too much whisky could not.

He sits in his chosen spot and spends time with his favourite memories of Teresa; mainly those times he made her laugh or smile that full smile of hers. He thinks about the day he clung to her hand after his sojourn in Vegas, and he wishes she were here to hold his hand now.

He laughs a little at his sentimentality and then acknowledges that he can't regret these feelings – if she were here now he _would _be trying to twin his fingers with her own. Whether or not Lisbon would allow him this privilege is a whole other story…

He hears a car pull up and prepares himself to talk to the woman he has been thinking about all night, only to find that one of her neighbours has been out grocery shopping and he must return to his cold and silent contemplation.

He wonders when he got so old; he can actually feel his bones protest the stupidity of his current position. He wants her to come home, and he wants to be with her.

This thought troubles him and yet he can't deny the truth of the words. He knows it's stupid and careless and he knows whatever they might have would be doomed to be over almost as soon as it's begun… But again, he wants…

He wants and this time he finds that he very much needs to acknowledge that.

He hears another vehicle park enter the complex and soon the sound of heels on concrete alert him to Lisbon's presence.

He thinks about standing to greet her, but wonders if he will be able to rise with any semblance of dignity intact before she gets to her front door.

He smells her perfume before he actually gets eyes on her, and he draws comfort in the constancy of her scent. In some of his darkest moments these last years when he needed comfort and calm he would focus on how good she smelled, and how he would associate that with safety.

"Jane, what's going on? Are you hurt, what's going on?"

He smiles as she goes straight into protector mode.

"I'm fine Teresa. I had a drink, thought I shouldn't drive so came to see you. I didn't think you would appreciate me breaking in so I've simply been waiting for you my dear."

He allows himself a moment to look at her lovely, slightly annoyed, face. Some of her make-up has worn off over the course of the night, and he certainly doesn't regret that he can see more of her freckles than he could earlier. Her lipstick remains, though less vibrant than earlier its dullness does not lessen the affect staring at her lips has on him.

"Jane, it's late and you should be home."

"I'll leave you if you send me out into the night after I've enjoyed a cup of tea. Have a heart Lisbon."

He watches as she sighs at him, trying to hide her smile of weary amusement.  
"Get up and get inside, Jane, my neighbours will be talking about me if you don't move."

Jane waits till she is focused on unlocking her door and then he struggles to his feet with as much grace as he can muster. He resists the urge to rest his hand on the small of her back; he curls his fingers and shoves them in his jacket pocket to ease the temptation.

He hovers in her periphery as Lisbon goes about her business of taking off her coat, and her shoes. He smiles helplessly when he is confronted with the more familiar sight of a short Lisbon beside him. He sneaks a look at her bare feet and suddenly wants to offer her a foot rub, but he chooses to keep this desire to himself for now. He decides he should force his thoughts to more reasonable discussions.

"Did you have fun tonight, Lisbon?"

"You don't have to watch out for me like this Jane, I have guns you know. You should be trying to sleep not trying to watch over me."

He wants to tell her that _watching over _her could never be anything other than a pleasure, but thinks that perhaps she should have a coffee in her hand for this unsettling revelation.

"I do understand you have guns, but that won't ever make me stop worrying. And you didn't answer my question, did you have fun?"

He smiles at her, an honest smile because he is so happy to be sharing precious time with her.

"It was okay, it was good to see people again – but it's been a hard few weeks and I'm tired so mainly I spent tonight wishing I was home. And that's not how I should be when out with old friends, but I'm tired. But it _was _good to see people and when I'm less busy at work I'll do it again."

He doesn't know what part of those words hurt him more; Lisbon pretending she will ever be _less _busy at work or her admitting how difficult the last few weeks have been for her.

"You deserve to be less busy Lisbon, and you should be. Perhaps something you could embrace, however, _after _making me a cup of rejuvenating tea."

She smiles at him again, this time more honestly as she turns and heads to her small kitchen to make them some hot drinks.

He buries his hands deep in his jacket pockets and follows her.

She has her back to him, busying herself with preparing his cup and Jane can't take his eyes from the curve of her hips and how good her ass looks in those jeans. He wonders how quickly he could cross the kitchen to touch her, but then takes time to consider just how much damage Lisbon could inflict on him if she were to recoil from his affection. He is certain she wants him as much as he does her but he acknowledges she most likely wouldn't see the truth in this statement.

He wonders if this will be last time he gets to spend some quiet minutes with her like this, and he knows finally what he has to do.

He takes a few steps closer to her then loses his nerve, deciding that her life would ultimately be much easier if he were not to complicate their emotional involvement any further.

Lisbon turns slightly to reach for a spoon and as she does she tucks a long strand of her behind her ear, and this heartbreakingly familiar action makes Jane take an involuntary step towards her. He very much wants to smooth her hair away from her face, and spend time exploring the smooth, pale skin of her throat.

He walks quickly now that he is intent on his purpose, as he moves behind Lisbon and encircles her in his arms.

"Jane, what the hell are you doing?"

She's gone rigid in his arms, but he is encouraged that she lets her grip slip from her coffee mug and then suddenly doesn't seem to know what to do with her hands. He buries his face in her hair and ever so slightly increases his hold on her, feeling her relax into the contact.

"Are you okay, what's wrong?"

He wants to shout a serial killer wants to _hurt _you Lisbon, the same serial killer I am going to kill very soon… He decides a different sort of honesty might be more appropriate now.

He kisses her hair softly, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo and the overwhelmingly intoxicating fragrance that is _Lisbon_. Jane can feel her try to resist his touch, and though he can't see her face he knows she is frowning and worrying about him.

Jane kisses her hair again, moving his lips down towards her neck as he suddenly_ needs_ to taste her skin. The brief brush of his lips against the column of her throat elicits a moan from Lisbon he feels all the way to his heart.

"Please Jane, please don't do this."

She whispers these words to him as he rests his left hand on her hip so that he can further investigate the taste of the soft skin he has so recently become addicted to. He kisses her sweetly one last time before he straightens again, never letting go of his hold on her. He buries his face in her hair again, unwilling to be separated from his new favourite place to rest his head.

"I'm so jealous of him Lisbon."

Lisbon stiffens slightly in bemused response to his words and she tries to turn in his hold to face him, but Jane is unwilling to loosen his hold on her.

"I don't understand; who have you to be jealous of?"

"_Him_ Lisbon. The man who is going to be here like this with you. The man you are going to spend your life with. I'm just so very jealous of him and the life he'll get to have with you when I'm gone."

He feels her move her hand to rest against his arms, as she grabs onto the material of his jacket.

"Don't talk like that Jane, don't ever talk like that."

He moves slightly as Lisbon stretches to turn her head round to face him, and then her lips are against his and he can only concentrate on the firm press of her body against his.

The kiss is awkward and frantic, but he knows all over again what it feels like to be _owned._ He would do anything; go anywhere to be able to kiss Lisbon like this for just a while longer. He feels her sigh against his mouth and then all he can feel is the slide of her tongue against his. His arms slacken around her as he attempts to find a more comfortable way to hold her, and this allows Lisbon to turn in his arms so that she can hold him against her.

He rests his forehead against Lisbon's as he tries to calm his breath, adoring how it feels to be wrapped in the protective embrace of Teresa Lisbon.

"Can I stay with you tonight Lisbon?"

She doesn't answer him with words, instead curling her fingers in the front of his shirt and pulling his lips back to tangle with her own. Jane rests his hands on the much admired curve of her hips while he holds her against his body. There is an absence of gentleness but an overwhelming aura of need between them, and when he can't resist it any longer he lifts Lisbon in his arms to rest her against her kitchen counter. He breathes heavily and rests his lips against her shoulder, not quite believing they are going to do _this._

"You know you can stay tonight and just _stay_, this doesn't have to happen. I just want you to be safe, Jane."

He looks at her properly for the first time since they started trying to communicate through touch. She is lovely, utterly lovely and he knows all over again how beyond lucky he is to have her in his life. And he knows with a similar sense of certainty that he has been nothing but a curse to her. She is watching him too, and smiles as she reaches up to wipe lipstick from his lips with her thumb. She rests one hand on his shoulder and then the other in his hair as she learns forward to kiss him with a tenderness that is beautiful and heart-breaking all at the same time.

He knows with absolute certainty that when he leaves he _will _break her heart.

"I want to stay with you tonight Lisbon."

"And then you'll leave."

"I don't want to think about tomorrow Lisbon, I want to make you remember me with something other than sadness. Or maybe I'm just a selfish man and I want to make you miss me. I want you Teresa."

He feels his heart crack open when she kisses his cheek and whispers against his skin that she loves him.

Jane helps her down from the counter, as Lisbon takes his hand in hers and leads him to her bed.

He knows he will break her heart, just as truly as he knows he is breaking his own.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, am simply borrowing them for the purposes of this story.

AN: Clearly out of date after the events of the yesterday's episode – this is set in some made up reality just after the second episode of this season.

He Will Break Her Heart Chapter 2

Jane wanted to apologise for his relative failure, and he promised himself he would as soon as he had managed to bring his breathing back under his own control. He found that he was having trouble catching his breath, and while he harboured guilt at the briefness of the pleasure he had offered Lisbon; he found that he wanted to do it _again_ as soon as he was able.

They hadn't made it inside her bed, they hadn't even managed to get fully out of their clothes; it was pitiful really. Lisbon was lying next to him, just as desperately trying to catch her own breath, looking more perfectly beautiful than Jane had ever seen her. Her shirt was open, baring her white lace bra to his view; her heavy breathing doing wonderful things to the appeal of her already delectable chest.

He was staring, trying to convince her of his silent apology for essentially jumping her as soon as they were in her room but also desperately attempting to memorise the image of Teresa Lisbon lying breathless in bed beside him.

He wants to speak but all he can think of are those words of apology and he truly doesn't want the first words spoken between them after they've finally made love to be words of regret. He moves his hand from the soft sheet and rests it on the warm flesh of her belly, tracing his thumb across the sensitive skin, wondering if she would object if he simply buried his face against her skin and lay there for as long as she would allow him.

Instead Jane crawls across the bed to her and kisses Lisbon through the thin fabric of her shirt. He feels her tense slightly under his touch and he wants to weep when she moves away from him and climbs off the bed. His gaze helplessly follows her as she moves across her room in her shirt and underwear, and as gorgeous as she looks to him just now he can't help but focus on how worryingly unhappy she looks.

"Lisbon?"

Jane supposes it's appropriate that he manages to find his voice and all he can think of to say is the name he was calling out in pleasure a few moments ago. She stops with her back to him, and he can clearly read the set of tension in her shoulders. He wants to get out of bed and curl his arms around her in the way that he did to get them into this mess in the first place. He wants to so very much, but he isn't convinced she will allow him this time. He wonders how tonight could have gone from passion and pleasure and love to _this _in a matter of minutes.

"Lisbon, where are you going?"

He wonders too when he is going to feel free to call her Teresa, the way he has been aching to since he first tumbled into her bedroom.

"I'm fine Jane; please don't make this more than it is. I'm going to have a shower, I won't be long. You can use it after me, or if you need to leave now that's fine too."

She disappears into the bathroom before he has the opportunity to respond. He hears the click of the lock as he gets up to follow her inside.

Jane traces his fingers down the outside of the door and wonders if he should leave before Lisbon gets out. He listens to the shower running and tries to decide what to do with the rest of his life before he is able to kill Red John. He knows he will inevitably hurt the woman in the room next to him, but just as truly he knows he will be horrible at letting her go.

He wants to regret his behaviour, not his leaving though, he wants to have as few regrets as possible when he leaves her – so he strips out of his shirt and underwear and slides back into Lisbon's bed. Actually he slides _into _her bed for the first time, deciding immediately that there is no finer feeling left in the world than to be enveloped in this cocoon of pure _Lisbon. _He lays his head on her pillow and unselfconsciously inhales a lungful of her scent, while wondering the amount of minutes he will be able to spend here with her.

He wants to make up for his earlier performance, frankly his eagerness and reaction to her got in the way of his plans. He had _planned _to slowly seduce her and convince her of his devotion in the longevity of his adoration, in the long minutes he spent worshipping her skin and her entire self. It didn't work out quite like that, and the brief minutes he spent _actually _worshipping her and then inside her was almost embarrassing in their brevity. Though if he is completely honest at least Lisbon was his equal in this desperate passion, her hands on his skin, her lips on his neck were no less needy and frantic than his own. And while he might wish for a more romantic beginning to whatever _this _might be, he at least takes comfort in the _honesty _of it.

They wanted each other more than anything else in the world in those moments, and while the embarrassment of that will surface later all he can think of now is that Lisbon _wants him._ And more significantly she wants him enough to admit it, finally. This time her feelings have been revealed, not in the depth of her eyes, or the sting of her rages; but in the whisper of her lips against his chest and the honesty of her sighs against his mouth.

Jane hears the shower being switched off and prepares himself to face her once again. He knows she must be thinking a thousand miles a minute in there, and that perhaps she will have worked out her own speech to let him leave. He needs to beat her to the speeches and convince her of his utter unwillingness to be anywhere but by her side while he still has the opportunity to be in her presence.

He knows Red John will ultimately separate them, he knows the pull of that destiny will eventually win – but tonight he wants to show Lisbon and more importantly perhaps _tell _Lisbon of her worth to him.

While Jane has been considering the words that will convince her, Lisbon has left the bathroom to walk back into her bedroom. He considers her cautiously, marvelling at the sight of her legs exposed by the sports shirt she has changed into. He smiles a little at her stubbornness and the absolute _rightness _of him being with her like this.

"Come back to bed, Lisbon. Please?"

Lisbon looks like she is considering running, and he almost jumps out of bed to gather her in his arms and hold him with her. He won't of course, part inertia and part self- preservation; instead he draws back the covers a little and silently pleads with her to join him.

"You've made yourself at home I see."

"Of course, my dear, you might not be able to get rid of me now."

He regrets the words as soon as they are uttered, and the brief flash of pain in Lisbon's eyes makes him regret his glib response.

"Please Teresa, come to bed."

Lisbon walks slowly across her room and climbs into bed. She settles on her side on the very edge of_ her _side of the bed.

Jane smiles at her as they regard each other from their separate pillows. He wants to reach across and simply kiss her until she is too breathless to argue with him about the rightness of what they are doing. He thinks perhaps he should offer her those words rather than touch to convince her of his devotion. But he can't resist staying away from her completely, so he slides his arm around her and pulls Lisbon into his waiting arms.

"Jesus Jane, you're naked."

"I am Teresa; I decided sleeping with you in my clothes would be unbearable. And I have amends to make, my dear. I very much want your permission to touch you again, and this time with the reverence and devotion you deserve."

Jane kisses her shoulder, just the touch of his lips against the fabric of her shirt, and that simple action makes Lisbon move out of his arms.

She moves back over to _her _side of the bed, lying on her back with her hands clasped across her stomach. Jane reaches over to take her left hand in his own, bringing it to his lips so that he can kiss her palm and simply be in some sort of contact with her again.

He watches her breathe, and waits for whatever she is about to tell him. He allows himself the luxury of once again brushing her hand against his lips, realising too late that this should have been his life long ago. Not this uncertainty, but her hand against his lips, and the delicacy of her wrist within his grasp. Jane kisses her with all the tenderness she inspires in him, and hopes Lisbon understands these unspoken thoughts.

"You've been the best and worst thing to have ever happened to me."

She's whispering into the silence of her bedroom, and Jane wonders if she is even aware that she has spoken her thoughts out loud. He traces his forefinger against the velvety soft skin of her wrist and hopes she'll be brave enough to keep talking.

"I know you're going to leave one day, whether to jail or when you run off somewhere. I know you want to kill Red John more than you want anything else in the world. I know all that and yet I know just as surely that I'm going to miss you for the rest of my life. I want to yell at you, Jane."

He lets go of her hand, deciding that he should put her first this one time. If Lisbon wants to yell at him and have him leave then he'll do that for her, it'll ruin him in a way but he will do this one thing for her.

"Do you want me to go, Lisbon?"

He watches her more intently than he ever remembers letting himself before, despite the many hours he has previously devoted to cataloguing her every nuance.

Her radiant eyes are wet and shining with her tears, and he can't resist reaching over to catch them as they escape down her cheek. Lisbon shakes her head, wordlessly telling him that she doesn't want him to leave. She is struggling with what she wants to say, taking gulping breaths to try and issue the words from her lips.

She suddenly turns over to her side and moves her head to rest against the same pillow as Jane. He can feel her warm breath on his neck and he wants her lips against his own more than he can convey. But he knows she is fighting with something, and he has to be sure it's not simply her kindness that prevents her from kicking him out tonight.

"Do you want me to go, Lisbon?"

She shakes her head no more fervently this time and the words seem easier to say this time.

"Never. You know I never want you to leave."

Jane leans across the scant space between them and kisses her full bottom lip, deciding that maybe he could do this for an hour or two before moving onto to learn another part of her just as well. He calculates he will need at least 3 days to learn Lisbon in enough detail to sustain him through the days ahead. Or maybe 4 days, or 5 or perhaps, he thinks, or for as many days as Lisbon will permit him.

He pulls her further into his arms, marvelling at how deceptively fragile she is when he knows the strength and the power contained in her small body. He pins her to him with the pressure of his hand against the tempting curve of her hips, he knows he should speak now before the urge to do _anything _other than taste her endlessly takes over his reason.

"I'm staying now Teresa for as long as I can, but I want you to promise me something. Don't wait for me, don't do that to yourself. That _guy _I was talking about earlier, that one I'm so jealous of, that man I already hate… Have that life Lisbon, be happy."

And with these words his reason finally leaves him and he pulls her fiercely into his arms, and all they know is lips and touch, and taste and endings.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, I am simply borrowing them for the purposes of this story.

AN: This story has certainly been rendered obsolete by being set so far in the past of Season 6. So I've tried to write this so that episode 6 could follow in the timeline after this, and if you squint the Jane and Lisbon in that episode could be the Jane and Lisbon here. This is quite angst ridden, I think I'm going to write something happy next time!

He Will Break Her Heart Chapter 3

He pulls her closer to him as she lies sleeping in bed beside him. Jane finds he is counting the hours until he has to let her go completely and he needs her skin against his own to banish those thoughts of aloneness for a little while longer.

He enjoys the sensation of her warm breath against his neck, and can't help the smile of happiness that comes unbidden to him at this shared contact.

He traces his hand up and down the soft skin of her spine, a caress he has been indulging since he first touched her on Friday night. Jane has been almost exclusively in this bed with Lisbon for the entirety of Friday night, all day Saturday and now into the small hours of Sunday morning. He knows he should leave, knows that touching her like this and being with her like this can only ever led to hurt…

And yet he finds himself entirely unable to move.

He knows he will stay here until they have to return to work on Monday morning, and become separate. Or at least become as they _were._ Part of him, a hugely significant part of both his brain and his heart, wants to plead with Lisbon to allow him the privilege of staying this like with her until he accomplishes what they both know he is intent on.

But then he refuses to bring thoughts of Red John into this bed.

He wants to only think of the woman in his arms, to be consumed only by her. Always.

He smiles again, the action becoming more familiar as his time alone and naked with her increases, as Lisbon murmurs slightly in her sleep and slides her hand across his chest to rest over where his heart beats.

He lifts her hand in his own and moves it to kiss her fingers softly before returning her treasured fingers to rest against him once more.

He fights tears now as he wonders who it will be laying with her like this in a year, or two years, or forever. If only he could reconcile one life with another he is certain it would be him – but he knows only too keenly where his tainted destiny lies.

Jane returns to his previous preoccupation, and begins to remap Lisbon's spine with his fingertips. He thinks if he touches her constantly like this it will subdue his overwhelming desire to tell Lisbon over and over again how dearly he loves her. Each time Lisbon has so beautifully whispered her love to him he has had to distract himself from saying the words in return. To keep the words away he kisses her more fiercely, he touches her with more tenderness, and he buries his face against her hair and tries so very hard not to let the truth of his love escape.

But he does love her, and he is almost certain she knows.

But he knows too that it is the uncertainty – the _almost - _ that will haunt this strong, lovely woman when he eventually leaves her, just as truly as he knows he will be haunted by the phantom touch of her skin beneath his fingertips. So while he will not share with Lisbon how completely she _owns _him, he will not cease in his adoration of her with his touch, his caresses and their joyously shared kisses.

He closes his eyes and concentrates all of his impressive focus on her in his arms, of Lisbon against his skin, her warm breath, her sleepy noises and breathing. She is adorable like this, and he smiles again.

He smiles.

He hugs her tighter to thank her for the gift of this brief dalliance with happiness. Jane knows he should not, he has been resisting it for the better part of an hour but he finds himself unwilling to deny himself the memory of indulging his feelings so entirely.

He traces his fingertips across her back in a new, less familiar pattern; concentrating intently on the touch of his skin against her own. He traces words he can't say, and he hopes on some level this healing touch will communicate all that he cannot. That he _will_ not while Red John lives and he knows he exists only as half a man.

He kisses Lisbon's forehead as he traces _love _against her lower back, relishing how his hands feel against this familiar part of her body. Though he smiles more when he realises just how _familiar _he has become with her cherished body since Friday. He listens to her breathe as he draws _you _across her shoulder blades with his touch. He breathes in and tries to be satisfied with this second best offering.

He is so tempted to whisper _love you_ into the darkness and quiet of the room, but fear keeps him silent as it so often has, when he knows Lisbon has always deserved the reverence of his words.

He feels her breathing change and knows instantly Lisbon is on the brink of waking. Part of him wants to hush her back into resting, but mostly he wants her awake again so he can talk to her and look into her eyes for as long as he is able.

Lisbon rubs her nose against his neck, and the unconsciously loving contact brings the sting of tears to his eyes. He moves his hand from her back to the perfect curve of her hip, both trying to distract himself from his all too visible emotions and simply because of how wonderful she feels underneath his touch.

The imperative to shower her with loving words still beats in his heart, but he kisses her tangled hair instead to stifle his emotions.

"Hey."

He thinks of how delightful she is when first awakening, knowing that her sleepy voice is one he would never tire of hearing were he to be given the opportunity to listen to her like this all the days of his life.

"Morning darling, or maybe I should go with _hey _too. It's very early."

"Time is it…"

"Far too early for you to be awake and worried about the time my dear. Go back to sleep, it's a little after 3am. Go back to sleep."

He bends down to softly kiss her cheek as he tells her softly to return to sleep.

"You're awake, though. You're going to lie here and brood."

"I promise I won't dear, I promise only to grope you while you sleep."

He feels Lisbon smile against his shoulder then just as suddenly he feels the intense loss of her warmth as she disentangles herself from his hold and moves to her own side of the bed to lie facing him with her sleepy gaze focused on him. She looks impossibly beautiful in the moonlight, more lovely perhaps than he has ever seen her. He wants to tell her those words, to tell her how stunning she is right now, and always is… But he won't, he knows how his words would have the power to destroy her. To chase this thought from his mind he reaches across to trace the softness of her upper lip with his thumb. He enjoys the gentleness of this contact, feeling intensely that it has been _years _since gentleness was part of his day.

"Will you be here in the morning, Jane?"

She asks the difficult question while his thumb was still against her mouth, so her words came out as a whispered kiss against his fingers. He stares back at her for long, silent moments as he works up the nerve to come to a decision.

"Can I stay with you till Monday morning?"

She blinks owlishly back at him and he recognises that she is trying to form words which will not sting. He watches as she twice attempts to speak, but instead decides to keep the thoughts to herself. He slides his hand into her own, missing the contact of her skin against his though they have only been separate for several moments.

"I don't have to Lisbon; I can go in the morning if that will make this easier. I don't want to disturb your Monday morning routine dear, it's no trouble to…"

She lunges across her bed and silences his words with her kisses. Lisbon softly brushes her lips against Jane's over and over, apparently trying to comfort with her tender affection. She whispers once more that she loves him, and he feels like he is killing her.

She moves away from him again, her head beside his on the pillow. She smiles at him, while brushing away tears from her own cheeks.

"I want you to stay until Monday morning, of course I do. You _know _I do. I don't want you to go, you know that too. I want you to stay for _me;_ I want to matter to you."

He knows how much those words cost her; how those must have been the words she tried so very hard not to say a few moments ago. She loves him and she is brave enough to tell him, and he can't bring himself to let the words of reciprocation leave his lips.

He wonders, not for the first time this weekend, exactly what she sees in him that he does not. He wants to tell her how very much she matters to him, that she is the only person living that matters to him. But they both know the words would be a lie. They both know, that an ugliness in the world matters more to him than her loveliness. They both know his priority will always be finding and killing the man who took away everything from him.

He curls his arms around her small body and pulls Lisbon to lay full length against him, feeling how quickly her tender hearts beats against his skin. He doesn't know what to say to convince her of his affection, of her importance, and of his complete desolation that he cannot do anything to change this path he has been on for so very long.

So he says nothing, he does nothing, simply holds Lisbon a little tighter and breathes in and out with her.

He feels his eyes grow heavy and relishes the comfort of having Lisbon tucked against him like this as he finally succumbs to rest.

"You don't get to tell me what to do."

He hears her softly spoken words just as he is about to leave wakefulness. For a few moments he almost believes he imagined them but then he feels her fingers dance across his chest and he knows Lisbon is confessing something to him.

"Are you listening to me, Jane? You don't get to tell me what to do."

"Okay, dear. Tell me exactly what I don't get to tell you to do."

He frowns as that sentence leaves his brain, but he thinks she knows what he meant by the softness of her response as she kisses his chin and moves to rest her head on high on his chest. He rests his hand on her hip again and thinks that if he had been lying like this at night these last years he would have slept so very much more.

"You think it's okay to tell me what to think, and what I should do when you're gone. But that's not for you to decide."

"I don't want you to waste time worrying about me Lisbon, and I don't want you to waste your life darling."

He knows he should not speak to her using endearments, but the word slips so easily from his tongue when she is warm and affectionate and lying in his arms.

"I get to decide what to do with my life. You won't listen to me when I ask you to be careful with your own life, so don't expect me to happily do as you ask. And don't expect me to think like you, or think worrying about you is _wasting _my life."

Jane kisses her hair and tries to summon the courage to tell her exactly what she has meant to him these last years, but again the words die on his lips.

"Don't tell me that there will be someone else here to take your place, and _don't _tell me you're jealous of imaginary men when you tell me so little else. You don't get to speak to me like that and expect me just to accept it."

He kisses her hair again, smiling at just how _Lisbon _she sounds right now.

She settles against his chest, her palm over his heart so he reaches up to thread his fingers through Lisbon's. They lie together like this, waiting for sleep to claim them.

He absorbs as much of this time into his memory palace as he can, wanting to never forget how perfectly they seem to fit together. He acknowledges now that being with Teresa Lisbon like this, that loving her, is burned on his soul just as truly as laughing and loving Angela is, or sleeping with his daughter lying against his chest.

He knows he is leaving the comfort of the family he could be with Lisbon, in order to pay the debt to the beloved, mourned family he has lost.

He wishes the distance between the two lives was not so profound.

But then he wishes for nothing more in this moment that to lie with Teresa like this, he knows he should accept the gift of her love and come Monday be ready to accept what will be for the rest of his life.

He lifts her fingers to his lips to kiss her once more before he gives in to sleep.

She murmurs sleepily at the contact, and he settles down to enjoy another few hours of resting with the woman who loves him.

"There's no one else for me, so don't be jealous of men that don't exist."

He knows he should protest this statement, he _knows _that he is breaking her heart a little more the longer he stays with her in this bed.

And yet he finds himself entirely unable to move.

He closes his eyes, whispers goodnight and hopes the morning will never come.


End file.
